


How To Be Cool

by lost_spook



Series: 50 Ficlets - Claim Kenny Phillips, Press Gang [13]
Category: Press Gang
Genre: Community - 50ficlets, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-04
Updated: 2010-11-04
Packaged: 2017-10-13 01:40:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/131401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_spook/pseuds/lost_spook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike gives Kenny personality lessons.  Shame Kenny can't give Spike lessons on Lynda.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How To Be Cool

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the LJ comm 50ficlets prompt 'Make me'.
> 
> Vague spoilers for S2 finale _Rock Solid_ / _The Big Finish?_.

_Lynda (to Kenny): "You going to be okay?"  
Spike: "Okay? He's going to be better than okay. He's going to be like me, only with niceness, and in tune." _ (S2, The Big Finish?)

*

 _"Kenny,_ " Spike had said, on his performance for the talent contest, " _I hear the singing's great. I hear the song's great. All you need is a little personality. Kenny, I'm here to teach you personality."_

Compared to everything else that was going on, Kenny thought it was a fair comment, and so here they were, post rehearsal at the Pavilion, with him trying to learn how it felt to be Spike. It was nearly as alien to him as trying to imagine what it was like to be Colin, with the slight difference that no one in their right mind would ever want to be like Colin.

"No, no," said Spike, on Kenny's latest attempt at entering the stage. "Nice walk, but it's gotta be an _entrance_ every time you come in through the doors, not an apology for being here. The party hasn't started till you arrived. Everything else till now has only been a warm up and a pretty feeble one at that. Got it?"

Kenny said, "Sort of."

"Look at it this way," Spike continued. "When you walk into a room, you've gotta imagine everyone's looking at you -."

"Generally speaking, Spike, that isn't a good thing."

"Now, that's where you're wrong. You've gotta start by grabbing everyone's attention, then follow it up with a couple of gags and before you know it they're eating out of the palm of your hand."

Kenny looked alarmed. "Spike, I'm going to do this, okay, but I'm not telling jokes."

"Speaking metaphorically," Spike said. "When you walk in, it's the best thing that's ever happened to everyone in the place. Hey, it's a privilege for those doors just to be kicked open by you. And when you get in the room, all the girls are looking at you with admiring eyes, and the guys are so jealous they've got steam coming out the top of their heads."

Kenny laughed helplessly. "Spike -."

"Hey, mock if you like, but from the rumours I've heard it's not so far from the truth this week. Not such a bad feeling, either, is it?" Spike returned. "So work with me here. Get back there and walk on like – well, like you're me!"

"I'll try."

Spike sighed. "You know your trouble, Kenny. You've spent too many years getting put upon by a certain person I'm not mentioning right now."

"Not funny, Spike," said Kenny, stopping as he was about to do as he was told.

"I thought it was, but, hey, I'm only the person with the best developed sense of humour in the room -."

"Thanks."

"And seriously," Spike continued, "has she really not said _anything_? I don't believe that girl."

Kenny moved back to the edge of the stage. "No."

"And if she had, you wouldn't tell me," he said. "I get it."

Kenny turned. "I don't know what it is with you two, so no. Just don't underestimate Lynda Day, that's all."

"You think I could?" said Spike darkly. "Hey, there's nothing I'd put past that girl."

Kenny grinned. "Oh, yeah, that, too, but it's all I'm saying, Spike."

"Right," he said. "Okay, well, prove to me you're Kenny Phillips, animal of rock, and I'll see what I can do about the rest."

Kenny eyed the stage warily, but at that, he said, "It's a deal."

*

"Well," said Spike later, "that was better - more a shy hello rather than an apology for taking up breathing space, but we've still got a long way to go here, Kenny."

Kenny sat on the edge of the stage. "Yeah. Sorry, Spike. Stuff on my mind. And, anyway, I feel stupid."

"Right," said Spike, and looked at him. "You know why, Kenny? You're dressed like Colin."

"Do you think I haven't noticed?"

Spike got to his feet. "We'll sort that out, and after that, it'll all be great. Image is everything."

"That's what Colin keeps telling me."

"Well, he does know _some_ things," Spike allowed. "He just, you know, hides it really, really well. Think of the coolest person you know; the most impressive personality round here - ."

Kenny beat him to the punchline. "Spike, I have to draw a line somewhere – I'm not dressing like Lynda!"

"Now _there's_ a truly disturbing thought," said Spike, raising his eyebrows. "And I'm hurt, I'm cut to the core here, Kenny. Am I not the coolest person you've ever met? You're going to dress like me."

Kenny shook his head, amused. "How soon can it be Saturday?"

"I'm not thinking about Saturday yet," said Spike with sudden gravitas that highlighted the emptiness and gloom of the pavilion around them.

Kenny set his face. "I'll get this right."

"And thanks for the advice," Spike added, hearing the unspoken condition of their joking bargain. "I think you're crazy, you know, but I'll bear it in mind. Just next time you get out there, one thing, okay?"

"What's that?"

"Say _hi_ to the imaginary audience, not _sorry_."


End file.
